


How To Take Care Of Your Spider

by Lafaiette



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Crossdressing?, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:14:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafaiette/pseuds/Lafaiette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter caught a cold, Wade comes to the rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Take Care Of Your Spider

The first thing Wade heard entering in the small apartment (through the window of course) was coughing.

He frowned because he knew that sound wasn't a _good_ sound, especially if it came from Peter's room.

Despite the self-deprecatory jokes about his cancer and his infallible healing factor and above all his uncaring attitude for his own health, the Merc could became almost _hypochondriac_ regarding Peter.

He constantly fretted about him, he made sure his health was perfectly in order every hour of every day and the wounds from their patrols always treated.

So those noises - horrible coughs and terrible sniffs - were for him worse than the cancer that ran through his body. His baby boy was ill and definitely needed his help.

“Peter?” the Merc called entering in the bedroom. The younger man was sitting on the bed, his back resting on the headboard, his red and puffed up face turned towards the ceiling.

His eyes were glossy and unfocused and Wade cursed under his breath - Peter’s fever was so high it was heating the whole room. Wade almost expected to see the bed bursting into flames.

“My poor baby boy!” the Merc exclaimed with a fake smile - to tell the truth he was sick worried and he just wanted to give his boyfriend a part of his healing factor to see him in perfect shape again.

Peter tried to reply - he really did - but his throat was so inflamed and swollen that all he managed to express was a pitiful croak.

“No, no, don’t say anything, honey. I’m happy to see you too. Did you do something to your hair? This new style suits you!”

Peter glared at him because he knew very well his hair was _sweaty_ and all over the place, brown locks stuck to his forehead. Wade just grinned and gave him a loud kiss, ignoring the bad breath caused by the illness.

“Don’t worry, baby boy, Doctor Deadpool will take care of you. Just lay down and close your pretty eyes.”

Peter obeyed - he didn’t have other choice after all - and watched Wade replacing the blanket with a fresh and clean one and placing other two soft pillows behind his back.

He also put a wet cloth on his forehead, just like a dutiful nurse, and Peter couldn’t help smiling a little. He had to admit he was surprised: Wade was doing a pretty good job and the cold dampness on his head had really reduced the bad sensation of the fever.

“Wait here~!” Wade sang trotting outside the room, headed for an unknown destination.

Peter closed his eyes, drowsiness already invading him, when a loud crash from the kitchen made him groan and eliminated every possibility of peace and calm.

Wade suddenly peeped out from the door and asked with a sheepish grin: “Hey, Peter, you don’t need that  delicate and effeminate porcelain bowl that your aunt had given you, right? Of course you don’t. Great. Perfect. I’m asking just for curiosity, it’s not like something happened to it.”

Peter’s glare was on the borderline between murder and utter resignation and Wade just sent him a kiss, disappearing beyond the doorframe.

\-----------------

One hour later they were both on the bed, Wade putting a spoon full of chicken soup into Peter’s mouth and wearing a nurse dress he had found in one of his old bags.

(Peter’s reaction had been priceless and if the fever hadn’t suppressed every functionality of his body he would have been aroused by the frilly pink dress and cute ribbons.)

“How is it?” the Merc asked and his smile became proud and happy when Peter nodded encouragingly with a face as much content.

After eating all the soup, Peter rested his head on the several pillows Wade had brought on the bed and tugged at the other’s man sleeve when he got up to put the bowl on the nightstand.

“What?” was Wade’s worried reply. “Do you need a massage? More food? Water? Medicine? A song?”

Peter snorted and shook his head, beckoning the older man over with a finger. The Merc leaned in, their faces almost touching, and he whispered with an anxious frown: “What? Oh God, are you dying? Was this a deathbed all along and I was too charmed by your puffy cheeks and runny nose to notice it?”

Peter punched him feebly in the stomach, but his smile didn’t disappear and he managed to rasp hoarsely: “Stay with me.”

Returning the smile tenfold, Wade gingerly cuddled up next to him, checking for the last time his fever and kissing his hot temple.

They were silent for few minutes before Wade spoke up: “… Just for your information, you are still sexy as hell even with that ridiculous red nose and that granny voice.”

Peter punched him again, this time with more energy, and smiled inwardly thinking that Wade’s soup really had given him a boost.


End file.
